


Unmasked

by Not_You



Category: Watchmen (Comic), Watchmen - All Media Types
Genre: Established Relationship, First Time, Fluff, Hand Jobs, Identity Issues, Identity Reveal, M/M, Mild Blood, Pre-Roche, Scratching, barely established but still, old fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-02
Updated: 2017-05-02
Packaged: 2018-10-26 17:56:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10791738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Not_You/pseuds/Not_You
Summary: In which Walter attends one of Dan's posh ornithology events to show him the fugliness behind the mask, and Dan wonders why on earth this random little ginger troll is so attractive.





	1. Chapter 1

Dan would really rather be patrolling. Or overhauling Archie or doing surveillance or research or something useful. At least something that doesn't involve evening wear would be preferable. He sighs, checking himself in the mirror. It's not really the event. Hell, these galas are usually at least kind of fun. They're a place to talk about birds, anyway, if a lot of his fellow idle rich don't really know much about ecology. It's Rorschach that's on his mind, sapping any joy out of this. He's already out on the streets, having promised not to do anything too dangerous tonight, and Dan wonders for the millionth time who he is.

The first time they had kissed had been through the mask, Rorschach reluctant even to reveal his mouth, and now, two months later, they're still stalled out at first base. Rorschach is clearly fucked up about sex, but it's more than that. Any time he asks about the man behind the mask, the answer is, 'you don't want to know.' It breaks his heart every time, and he's still thinking about it as he goes down to the cab. On the ride over he manages to switch to the guest list, trying to remember who will be there and whether or not he'll have to dodge Mrs. Blum and her daughter and if Dr. Horne will be there and if she's learned anything else about how pigeons navigate.

Walter looks around, and seeing no pursuit, supposes there's none to be seen. There isn't that much money here tonight, and security is mostly to keep out the reeking homeless and the underage. Besides, with this amount of people and with the massive white columns, a little rat like Walter Kovacs can hide fairly well. Even if this is a black tie affair and he's doing his best with his funeral suit. His working suit is tucked under the loose floorboard, and he feels a pang for lying to Daniel about his whereabouts. But this way he can show him, and his derision will be infinitesimally less painful because he won't know. He won't know that this is what's behind Rorschach's mask, that this is that avatar of justice's "real" face. He watches people cluster around the refreshment tables, and decides that some distraction may be in order.

It's a good spread, as always. Dan has to chuckle to himself, seeing all the earmarks of one of the city's best caterers. There are tables set up, and a stage for interminable speeches and conservation awards. Ever the fat kid at heart, it's straight for the food. A redhead he doesn't recognize seems to have the same idea, and he smiles. The stranger's hair is a roadflare of violent red over his freckled face, and he's dressed like a charity kid at a funeral, loading a tiny, silver-colored paper plate high enough that a society matron gives him the eyebrow. He just looks back at her like Boo Radley or something, and she looks away, plainly discomfited. He munches a tiny sandwich in victory, and Dan does his best not to laugh, reaching past him for a deviled egg.

"You should try one of these while you're at it." Walter nearly jumps out of his skin, because Daniel is suddenly beside him, slotting neatly between him and the terrifying old woman, and his ears go red at being caught out, and at being his ridiculous self. "I think they've got just the right amount of mayonnaise, and they don't pretend to be anything they're not."

"Hn." Walter takes one.

"I don't think I've seen you at one of these before."

"...Friend of mine is an amateur ornithologist. I've gotten interested." This is not exactly a lie, and Daniel's sunny smile turns his knees to jelly.

"Great." He delicately plucks up a few other things, making his way down the line. "You wanna share a table?" 

Walter almost chokes, because this is too perfect. "Yes. Thank you." He follows Daniel like a puppy, and the two of them are soon settled at one of the little round tables that dot the foyer, covered with wine-colored tablecloths.

Dan sets his plate down and stands again. "I'm gonna go get a drink. You want anything?"

"...What is there?" His new acquaintance says, and Dan can't get over the impression of an alien, some wild and rare creature that does not belong here. That perhaps doesn't even belong in clothes, and he tries not to blush, wondering what the hell is wrong with him.

"Champagne, mostly."

"...I don't drink."

"I'll see what I can do." He turns, then turns back, feeling silly. "What's your name, anyway?"

"Walter Kovacs." He flushes again, and it's as cute it was the first time, and Dan is a little dizzy as he shakes his hand.

"Daniel Dreiberg."


	2. Chapter 2

When Dan returns with champagne for himself and a raspberry Italian soda for his companion, Walter is waiting for him, flat brown eyes full of endless, canine patience that makes Dan want to kiss him. Instead, he smiles as he sets the drink down, trying not to babble. "They've got rose and cherry too," he says, "but I thought raspberry was the safest bet."

"Rose?" Walter blinks, sipping the drink with obvious appreciation.

"Yeah." Dan sits down again. "Rose syrup. It mostly just tastes like sugar, but it's a great shade of pink."

"Used to like lavender candies."

"Ick, they taste like detergent."

"You know them?"

"Walter, I was a fat kid, I know all about candy."

"Hrrm. Not fat now."

"Eh, I probably will be when I'm old. May as well eat my deviled eggs while I can." 

He suits action to words, and Walter savors his drink, which is just the right mix of tangy and sweet. Looking over at Daniel, he wonders what champagne tastes like. The bubbles rise in neat lines as Daniel idly turns the glass, those dark eyes looking through everything the way they do when he's converting the images flashing across his retinas to math. He's beautiful, and Walter's throat constricts, and he sets his glass down before he chokes.

"You okay?" Dan looks back, a bit ashamed of spacing out like that.

"Yes." Walter says. "Fine." And there's just something so goddamn adorable about him that Dan grins.

"As long as you're sure."

Walter doesn't get a chance to reply, because there are speeches, some of which he does not understand, and many of which are deeply insincere. He takes the opportunity to devour everything on his plate, and at the first real break in the action, Daniel grins at him. "Man, where do you put it?"

"Underfed as a child." Walter deadpans, and steals an orange slice from his partner's plate.

"I hope you're kidding."

He pauses to consider it. "There wasn't much around the house when I was small, but there was always something. After that I was..." He sighs, and goes on because tonight is about the truth, "I was in a Home after I was ten, though."

"...What kind of home?" And Daniel is just curious. Curious and kind and Walter wants to cry.

"A Home for Problem Children."

"Where they some shithole with restraints and drugs, or was it all right?"

"...It was all right." He waits for Daniel to ask what his Problem was, but he just finishes his champagne, gets another glass, and talks to Walter about endangered burrowing owls. When he offers a taste, Walter gives in to curiosity, and his lips on the rim is like an indirect kiss.

Christ, he's blushing again. Dan has never really been sure just how the hell cruising is supposed to work, but this is not normal, this is gay, and since when is he a faithless whore? Which is exactly how Rorschach would think of it. Walter's utterly hilarious whiskey face makes him laugh anyay. "That bad, huh?"

" _Disgusting_." And he really does sound like all the champagne in the world has personally insulted him, and Dan has to assume the resemblance to Rorschach is most of the attraction.


	3. Chapter 3

Walter has no idea what to do anymore. He has revealed everything he can: his name, his unfortunate looks, his time in the Home, his poverty (a wren among gleaming ravens), and it doesn't seem to matter. Daniel likes him. The knowledge keeps ringing in his head like the echo of a bell, periodically renewed by Daniel's smile. None of the speeches have made any sense in a while, because he's watching Daniel instead of listening. It actually comes as a surprise when it's all over, and they're supposed to get up and mingle.

"Relax, I'm bad at it too." Daniel says, and takes his arm and hauls him around to introduce him. At lot of the people are dreadful, but some of them are sweet, guileless scientists like Daniel, and bonbons have been put out at some point when Walter was utterly failing to pay attention. So he sticks close to Daniel and lets himself be introduced by his real name, fighting like hell not to blush.

Walter is so fucking cute Dan can hardly stand it, and in the easy glow of champagne he almost puts an arm around him, but manages to resist. Still, it's hard with him nibbling chocolate-covered raspberry cordials like a little kid or an even littler mouse, brown eyes taking everything in. There's something animal about them, a kind of flat wariness that makes him think of alley cats, of downed hawks and intelligent dogs. He's talking quietly to Dr. Horne about pigeons when Dan drifts bathroomwards, with dim, probably entirely pointless ideas about beating off and burning off some of this weird, sweet tension after he takes a leak. Walter startles and follows him, barely taking a moment to excuse himself.

"What?" Dan asks, able to tell he's anxious but with no idea what about.

"Aren't..."

"Wait, do you think I'm ditching you?" He laughs. "Walter, you're a freaking delight, I just actually have to pee." 

So Walter comes with him, like they're girls and need to fix their lipstick together. So much for beating off. When Walter takes the fag position (the very next urinal, despite all of them being open) Dan wonders if he's a: not going to be able to piss at all (being one of those shy-bladder people) and b: going to have to have a very awkward conversation about having a boyfriend. Walter just uses the facilities and carefully washes his hands, passing Dan paper towels so he can do the same. He turns to toss them into the trash after drying his hands, and Walter's way too close, almost cornering him against the sink. And he doesn't mind. He should. Hell, he should be suspicious, because even a little tipsy he usually knows where everyone in the room is if he's freaking _blindfolded_ and _waitaminute!_

"...Rorschach?!" He stares down into Walter's brown eyes and for a moment thinks he's going to bolt.

"H-how.."

Dan smiles. "You smell the same, buddy." He leans in and nuzzles just under his ear, and it's definitely Rorschach's scent and skin and half helpless, half irritated noise when he sucks lightly.

"Wearing cologne," he points out.

"And it smells good, but you still smell like you," Dan purrs, and then giggles, biting Walter's neck and making him flinch. "Man, you have no idea how glad I am that you're you."

"...Really?" And he blushes again and sounds so goddamn shy that Dan just has to kiss him.

"Yeah. I've been wanting to do that all night and thought it would mean cheating on you."

"...Oh." He's trembling a little. "Daniel, can we leave?"

"One more round and we can leave together on the excuse of sharing a cab." He grins. "Although I'm hoping we're headed to the same address. 

Rorschach is a fine-tuned machine, who sees more without eyes than most people do in their entire lives. But Walter really doesn't see anything as he and Daniel make their escape. It makes sense because he certainly doesn't feel like Rorschach, warm and expectant and fuzzy. One sip of nasty, foul, _horrible_ champagne can't have been enough to make him drunk, even though he never drinks, but he supposes this must be what it's like. Everything slides past in a glow of color, and he's polite on autopilot, fighting every cell in his body, because every single one wants to wrap around Daniel and not let go for a long, long time.

If he didn't know his partner better, Dan would be afraid Walter was pissed off at him. He's formal, correct, rigid, and the soul of brevity. Dan can feel himself softening into apologies to keep anyone from being abraded on that edge, and speeds Walter out. Besides, he's not sure how long he can keep from pouncing the guy. Or carrying him off like a goddamn viking, and it's so cute that he's this fucking short, and red hair, for God's sake. To say nothing of the freckles and the pug nose and he's somewhere between ugly-cute and imposing, and that is just so Rorschach.

Walter wants to relent in the back of the cab, to take Daniel's hand. After all, homosexuals are no surprise in these degenerate times, particularly not to a New York cabbie, but Rorschach has standards. And Nite Owl apparently recognizes and respects that, because Daniel... Well, he doesn't exactly maintain manly silence, but he does refrain from touching, and talks to the driver about baseball. Walter has always had a certain affection for the sport, and is even able to contribute every now and again through the debilitating haze.

The tip is massive, but Dan is feeling goodwill toward pretty much everyone. It's positively Christmas-y. Well, save for being about 70% x-rated by this point. And he sure as shit doesn't feel like waiting for his change. Still, Dan is a patient man. Only once they are safely out of the cab, across the sidewalk, up the steps, and behind the closed (and locked) door, does he snatch Walter up and pin him to the wall with a kiss. He whines, legs wrapping around Dan's waist, and he's rock hard as Dan yanks at his tie, thanking God and everybody that Walter went with a four-in-hand knot and he can just rip the damn thing off and fling it aside. He does not pop off the top two buttons of Walter's shirt, no matter how badly he wants to. Walter is fussy about his clothes, and while he may be mewling helplessly now, he will bitch later. Still, Dan allows himself a low groan of longing as he does his best with one hand and without looking, biting Walter's neck and making him cry out, loud, sharp, and unselfconscious.

He can't think, he can barely _breathe_ , and he should be afraid. Almost is, but not quite. Under it all, the snare-drum heartbeat and the terrifying vulnerability is the steady, sure knowledge that Daniel will take care of him. He never admits that that's how it works, but he's far too perceptive not to see it. Now, he just wriggles out of his jacket, shirt, and undershirt, and lets them drop to the floor to become a mass of wrinkles. Daniel is suitably appreciative, moaning and biting Walter's shoulder in a way that makes his hips buck like flipping a switch.

It takes Dan a while to think about his own clothes, or anything but devouring Walter, but finally he does carry his partner off. Like a groom rather than a viking, and Walter mutters bitterly about being emasculated into Dan's ear, hot breath and sharp teeth making him whine and stumble a little on the stairs, regathering Walter's weight and surging upward, laughing as Walter nips his neck in irritation. He kicks the bedroom door open and sets Walter on the bed, sitting down beside him and getting out of his clothes are quickly as he can. It's not very quick, with Walter "helping", his bony hands getting in the way, and all the kissing. It's very distracting, but finally they're stretched out naked, and Dan can't think of anywhere he'd rather be. 

It's still so alien to be held, so strange to be something precious to anyone. But Daniel holds him close, like someone else actually might want to take Walter away. As if there really is something particular and good about him. Daniel's hands are huge, and so gentle, stroking every inch of his ugly, speckled skin, cupping his face as their owner covers it with kisses. His own hands are only able to dig their nails into Daniel's back, and he can't articulate any of it, only able to make animal noises and grind against his partner.

There's no possibility of planning anything more elaborate than a handjob, and Dan doesn't care. Walter squeaks at having his ass squeezed, and that right there is enough to justify the existence of the universe. The noise he makes when Dan grips both their cocks in one hand and jerks nice and slow for as long as he can stand it is so high and sharp that Dan has to kiss him, swallowing it for safekeeping. Walter moans, one leg stretched impossibly high, knee hooked just below Dan's arm, then claws five stripes of fire on Dan's back and cries out, shaking and coming so hard Dan is almost afraid he'll hurt himself. There's no way to resist that, and he buries his face in Walter's hair, groaning as he follows him over the edge.

Walter whimpers, and nuzzles Daniel's chest, shivering. "Need to wash." He mutters.

"MMmmmnno." Dan replies, eloquent in the service of reason.

"Sticky." Walter points out. Daniel just sighs and kneads his backside, something that is unaccountably distracting and therefore cheating. "Not fair." He mutters, purring when Daniel scratches him a little. Daniel just chuckles, but reminded of scratches, Walter feels his back with an experienced hand. "...Bleeding."

"...Hot." Dan grins, watching Walter's amazing, plug-ugly, beautiful face contort into a familiar and shockingly new expression of mostly-feigned disgust.

"Deviant."

"Mmhm."

"...Love you." Walter mutters, feeling ridiculous the way he does every time.

"I love you too, Walter Kovacs."


End file.
